I had a dream. In this dream, I negotiated a contract where I would be paid beyond my useful years for doing absolutely nothing at all. Once any talent I had was completely gone, instead of living off my pension or social security, I would get paid a ridiculously large sum of money for my “personal services,” but only if I chose to accept it. I mean, you never know. It’s possible I wouldn’t want a million dollars a year and would say “no,” right?
But it was only a dream because MLB has set the precedent and there will be no more of the clauses that made Ryan Zimmerman and Albert Pujols very happy men. No bathing in champagne for me. No private islands in the Caribbean bought with my personal services clause.
No, I’ll have to chase my dreams elsewhere. Here, for instance.